Work For The Working Man
by Sunshine Through The Storm
Summary: Gale reflects on his life without Katniss, and how lucky he actually is. Songfic to Work For The Working Man  Bon Jovi . Not Catching Fire compatible. Gale/OC, Katniss/Peeta. Disclaimer: I'm not that lucky.


Title: Work For The Working Man  
Author: Sunshine Through The Storm  
Summary: Gale reflects on life without Katniss. Songfic set to Work For The Working Man, by Bon Jovi. Not Catching Fire compatible.

Brief Author's Note: This is a kind of prequel to a story I'm going to write with my friend, so this is just a taste of what our AU is like. When the fic is up, you're welcome to read and review on it :).

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I rise from the filthy hole where I spend twelve hours almost every day earning a pitiful sum of money to keep my family alive. I screw up my eyes as the moonlight shines, brightly illuminating the path back to my home on the edge of the village. If I look hard enough, I can see the outline of the small house- candlelight flooding through the cracked window of the main room.

_I'm here trying to make a living  
I ain't living just to die  
Never getting back what I'm giving  
Can someone somewhere help me justify  
Why these strong hands are on the unemployment line_

Filing through the main building next to the mine, I punch my time card out and weave my way through the exhausted crowd of emaciated bodies. Hanging up my tools in the bunker for the night, I pace through the doors into the coal dust stained zone that is the Seam of District Twelve. I trudge in my heavy work boots along the meandering dirt trail towards my home and my family.

_Now there's nothing left  
But what's on my mind  
oh ohh oh ohh_

"Daddy!" My tiny girl Erin trills as she flings the door open to let me in. She's soon shadowed by Jason who only started walking a few days ago, and baby Jasper who crawls rapidly to me. My gorgeous wife Rubia calmly brings up the rear, smiling but still reflecting the weariness I feel too. I tug off my boots and store them in the corner with the other shoes. Dodging my way through the perilous maze of homemade toys and dolls, I collapse into my cosy armchair by the blazing fire. Erin bounds onto my lap and waves a picture book at me, insisting that I read it.

_Who's gonna work for the working man  
(Hurt) for the working man  
(Work) Get your hands in the dirt  
Who's gonna work off the curse  
(Work) Brother I'll be damned  
(Work) If I don't raise a hand  
(Work) Whose gonna work, work, work  
For the working man, working man_

Jason clamours onto my knees to join his redhead sister. Rubia fits Jasper in between them snugly and brings her own chair closer. Pulling my arms around all three of my children, I opened the sky blue book and began to read a very old tale about a girl who wore a red hood. Erin's favourite. Wonder why...

_Empty pockets full of worry  
Had to get two jobs  
And it was hard enough just getting by  
With the grace of god I'll get us through  
I only know what I know how to do  
I'm the only one who's got to look my family in the eye_

One by one, the children fall asleep, having waited for hours for me to come home before they went to bed. Erin evades sleep for the longest, clutching at consciousness, but fatigue overwhelms her eventually. Rubia plucks each sleeping babe from me and tucks them all to their big bed on the far side of the bedroom. I follow her and as I blow out the candle I hear Erin call for me.

_Day after day  
Night after night  
Oh Ohh Oh Ohh_

"Hey sweetie." I say, taking her hand. That's something about working in mines. You grow used to living in dim light. "What is it?"

"Daddy." Erin whispers softly. "Daddy, I don't have my Poppy doll. I can't sleep without her!"  
I sigh, and search for another match for the candle. Pulling on Erin's hand I manage to get her out of the bed without jerking her so that the boys wake too, and together we begin to search the living room. Dim embers glitter in the brick fireplace, throwing long shadows around the room.

_Who's gonna work for the working man  
(Hurt) for the working man  
(Work) Get your hands in the dirt  
Who's gonna work off the curse  
(Work) Brother I'll be damned  
(Work) If I don't raise a hand  
(Work) Whose gonna work, work, work  
For the working man, working man, working man, working man_

Eventually, the much-loved and shabby doll is found- fallen down the side of the chair- and returns into Erin's arms. Erin squeals happily and bounces off to bed. I absentmindedly stack some of the scattered books into a semi-neat pile, and tuck a wooden family into their wooden beds, and shut them safely inside their inviting wooden home.

_I lost my pension  
They took my I.D  
These were my friends  
These were my dreams  
These were my hopes  
These are my streets  
Can you hear me?_

I look out the window and cast my eye over the rest of the district. Twinkling jewels on the outskirt of the black coated area symbolise Victor's Village. There, reside Katniss Mellark (née Everdeen) and her husband Peeta. I suppose I should thank him for taking away any chance I had with Katniss- after all, I would never have met Rubia, and we wouldn't have Erin, Jason and Jasper. And of course, there wouldn't be crazy old Faith or Aliyah.

_Who's gonna work for the working man  
(Hurt) for the working man  
(Work) Get your hands in the dirt  
Who's gonna work off the curse  
(Work) Brother I'll be damned  
(Work) If I don't raise a hand  
(Work) Whose gonna work, work, work  
For the working man, working man, working man, working man_

I think about these things before I eventually totter off to bed. Sure, I work long hours, have poor pay but in the end it is all worth it. For Ruby, Eri, Jase and Jazz. To see their happy faces at the sight of a bountiful meal or a new toy sewn from beautiful new cloth. Those moments I live for.

_These were my friends  
These were my dreams  
These were my hopes  
These are my... _

I stretch my arms and smile to myself. Thanks a billion Peeta, you've made me a richer man than President Snow himself can possibly ever be.

_Streets..._

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